Page 175 of The Storm

Maybe it had only felt special because we were so young, and he was my first.

Maybe I’d built it into something bigger than it was.

Maybe if it wasn’t unique, I could survive losing him.

Turns out, I’ve just spent years lying to myself.

Whatever brief encounters there have been over the years, nothing has ever been even in the same universe.

He’s moving, rocking against me. A moan escapes my lips, and it makes him groan into my mouth, his hands sliding down to my hips, pulling me a few inches up the bed until our bodies line up perfectly. The rock-hard cock against mine makes my body light up like it’s filled with sparklers.

There’s no gentleness or finesse in wanting him.

I’m desperately pushing against him, shoving my body into his, hands in his hair, lips crushed against his, my tongue in his mouth.

When he suddenly pushes his hand between us and shoves my hips back I cry out with sheer desperation.

“Blue,” he says in a choked voice, like I’m his only tangible contact to reality. He jerks the sweats down my hips, low enoughthat they tangle around my knees. Blood roars in my ears. His hand is big and strong, all warm palm and long fingers circling my length.

Why does it feel so much more intense than every other time in the past six years?

I already know the answer.

I kept telling myself I was searching for this feeling.

Just this feeling.

I wasn’t.

I was searching for him.

FIFTY-THREE

NICK

I feelhim tense against me. My hand stops, and he opens his eyes. I’ve always been fascinated by Blue’s eyes. When we were younger, he was an open book. Every emotion passed across his face before he could stop himself. Everything he felt was written plainly in that forest-green gaze. Excitement. Annoyance. Happiness. Hurt. Love.

I never had to guess what he was thinking because it was right there.

But then I threw it all away.

And somewhere along the way, he learned how to hide things.

Except now. Now I see everything. Right now his eyes are open and soft and needy. He pushes his cock into my hand, every inch hard and heavy in my spit-slick palm.

He pulls my lips back to his and moans into my mouth. I run my lips down the side of his neck, licking and nipping at the soft skin. Each moan and gasp that falls from his lips makes me harder.

“Don’t stop,” he grunts as he thrusts into my hand more insistently.

He bucks against me, groaning, panting.

He fumbles between us, and then my cock is in his hand.

Blue’s hips rock, fucking into my fist, and I slam my hips forward, pushing my dick into his grip, and the only sound in the room is our panting breaths, and the vicious slam of my heart in my ears.

Pleasure climbs inside me. I chase it, greedy and voracious.

It’s fast and frantic. There are no thoughts of savoring anything.